We Don’t Have the Luxury of Doubt About God

We Don’t Have the Luxury of Doubt About God

We imagine doubt is neutral—an airy waiting room where we can linger until clarity arrives. But when it comes to God, doubt is not a neutral room. It is a delay with a cost. Life is brief, suffering is real, love needs our hands today. The ego whispers that we can postpone surrender, postpone trust, postpone obedience, because “more evidence” or “better timing” might appear. That whisper is not wisdom; it is anesthesia. And it is harming us.

By “ego” I don’t mean healthy self-respect. I mean the inner strategist that insists on centrality, control, and credit. The ego’s favorite weather is fog—enough murk to keep us from committing, enough ambiguity to stay enthroned. It inflates questions into excuses and turns honest inquiry into a shield against responsibility. Doubt, in this mode, becomes procrastination dressed as sophistication.

There is a place for questions. In fact, reverent questions are a form of prayer. But there is a difference between questions that open us to God and doubts that barricade us from God. One seeks truth to live it. The other seeks delay to avoid it. We know the difference in our bodies: honest questions soften the heart and lead to action; egoic doubt tightens the jaw and leads to stalling.

Why don’t we have the luxury of doubt? Because love is urgent. Because our neighbors bleed now, our children watch us now, our own souls are shaped by the habits we rehearse today. Every day we choose a liturgy: trust or self-protection, generosity or grasping, prayer or self-absorption. There is no neutral. Postponed surrender quietly tutors the heart in unbelief. We become what we repeatedly resist.

Consider the stories the ego tells:

- I’ll return to God when life calms down. Life rarely calms; our appetites expand to fill every quiet space.

- I’ll trust when I have certainty. But certainty is not the currency of love—commitment is. You don’t marry because you know every outcome; you commit because love has claimed you.

- I don’t want to be naive. Yet the ego confuses naivete with faithfulness and cynicism with wisdom. Cynicism costs nothing and builds nothing.

- God should prove it on my terms. This is the ego asking to remain judge, not disciple. It’s not a request for truth; it’s a bid for control.

The cost of this stance is subtle but severe. Doubt—orbiting self—shrinks wonder, thins gratitude, and turns prayer into argument. It cuts us off from the vitality that comes only after the heart bows. It isolates us in commentary while others are out building, healing, forgiving. The soul atrophies not because questions exist, but because love is withheld.

Faith, properly understood, is not pretending to know. It is choosing to trust and obey the One who is worthy, despite incomplete sight. It moves from “explain everything” to “I entrust myself.” When we step, the path appears. When we give, joy grows. When we forgive, we are freed. Faith is a muscle that strengthens in use; waiting to feel strong before lifting ensures we never begin.

If you suspect the ego is hiding behind your doubt, look for its disguises:

- Perfectionism: “If I can’t do it flawlessly, I won’t start.” God asks for fidelity, not flawlessness.

- Comparison: “Others seem more spiritual; I’ll sit this out.” God calls you by name, not by rank.

- Control: “I’ll surrender… but only this corner.” Partial surrender is a recipe for chronic anxiety.

- Entertainment: “I’ll scroll my way to peace.” Distraction is the ego’s favorite sedative.

- Irony: “I’m above enthusiasm.” Irony protects the self from vulnerability; love requires it.

What does it look like to abandon the luxury of doubt without abandoning honesty? It looks like moving. Pray even if you feel nothing. Serve even if you can’t explain everything. Forgive even when your pride protests. Read sacred words even when your mind wanders. Show up to worship even when you’d rather sleep. These acts do not earn God; they open us to God. Over time, the heart notices: the fog thins after we step, not before.

A few practices disarm the ego’s grip:

- A daily yes: Each morning, a simple prayer—Here I am. I don’t understand it all, but I am yours. Use me today.

- A small, concrete sacrifice: Give money, time, or attention in a way that costs you. Let love spend your ego.

- Confession and forgiveness: Speak the truth about your failures; receive mercy; extend mercy. Ego shrinks in that exchange.

- Silence before scripture: Read slowly. Let one line read you. Sit three unhurried minutes without commentary.

- Community and accountability: Walk with people who love God more than your comfort. Borrow their courage on thin days.

- Sabbath from self-importance: One day a week, stop producing. Let the world turn without your managing it. This trains the soul to trust.

- Gratitude naming: Write three gifts each evening. Gratitude pries the fingers of ego off the steering wheel.

But what about sincere doubt—the ache for coherence, the wish to make sense? Honor that ache. Bring it to God, not as a threat but as an offering. Say: I don’t see how this fits. Help my unbelief. Then keep loving anyway. Doubt becomes corrosive when it suspends love. It becomes holy when it drives us to dependence. The goal is not to abolish all questions; it is to refuse the posture that uses questions to evade love.

We also mishear the stakes. Faith is not a pass-fail exam for divine approval; it is the only way to participate in divine life. God is not a proposition to finally nail down, but a presence to finally yield to. Yielding breeds intimacy; intimacy breeds trust; trust breeds courage. Courage is how we join God’s remaking of the world. Nothing about that can wait.

The world’s pain won’t pause while we perfect our worldview. The neighbors we are called to love won’t get back these hours. Our own hearts are sculpted by repetitions; the grooves we carve today channel our future. To say we lack the luxury of doubt is to remember our hours are precious, our calling is present tense, and the water of life is tasted only by those who drink.

So let the ego grumble. Let it demand clarity on its terms and promise safety if you stay unmoved. Then smile, and step. Say yes with your feet. The paradox will keep proving itself: assurance grows after obedience; vision sharpens after surrender; joy blooms after generosity. We do not banish mystery—we learn to belong to it.

And if you want a test, use this: Does your doubt make you smaller, meaner, more insulated? Or does your questioning make you humbler, braver, more available to love? If it’s the first, call it what it is: egoic resistance. Lay it down. If it’s the second, follow it through all the way to trust.

We are not promised endless tomorrows, but we are given this day. Not the luxury of doubt, but the dignity of faith. Not a throne for the ego, but a cross for the self and a resurrection for the soul. Choose, not because you’ve solved everything, but because Love has already chosen you.

I am a global nomad/professional traveler, and I move from place to place about every three months. I am currently in Peru and heading to Chile in a few days. I enjoy writing articles, stories, songs and poems about life, spirituality and my travels. You can find my songs linked below. Feel free to like and subscribe on any of the platforms. And if you are inspired to, tips are always appreciated, but not necessary. I just like sharing.

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